A Trusting Hand
by laurenmdean
Summary: When Sam falls ill, Dean is trying everything he can to help him get better, but Sam's decline just keeps going. No matter the pain, Dean is there to help. Sick Sam, Worried Dean
1. It's ok Sam, I'm here

The day was cooler than the ordinary December day in South Carolina. Sam and Dean were lying against the cold windshield, cupping beer cans in their hands. Sam was staring at the group of younger kids playing football in the crisp air, his breath releasing little puffs of smoke. Dean was staring at the setting sun, the temperature dropping literally a couple of degrees an hour. As the sun finally fell behind the tree line Dean smacked Sam on the thigh and let out a loud sigh.

"Well, enough of this just waiting around, we need to go find a motel and we need to get researching." Dean rose from his current position and chugged the last bit of beer. He proceeded to crunch his can under his foot in the ground and leave it there.

"Do you have to litter everywhere we go?" Sam chuckled to himself picking up the crushed can. "I mean, we can have respect for at least one state we go to." He looked around for a moment and upon finding a trash can, chucked them in. He shrugged his shoulders at his brother who was leaning on his open door driver side door.

"Ok you activist, can we just get a move on already?" Dean chuckled to himself. He stood secretly admiring his little brother. Sam climbed into the Impala and a very obvious shiver drove through his body. "You cold?" Dean asked in a passing glance, "Because by all means Nancy, I can turn on the heat, you can even have my jacket if you want." Dean let out a little smirk. Sam just sarcastically chuckled.

"You're a jerk." Sam managed to get out.

"And you're such a bitch." Dean counteracted quickly. He turned on the roaring engine, and they made their way down the now deserted highway.

The motel wasn't as run down as most of the ones they stayed in. It didn't have the scary looking air conditioning unit hanging shabbily out of the window, and the blinds actually closed.

"Hey Sam, did you know we are only an hour away from a beach?" Dean asked as he picked up the schedule for the shows on HBO.

"Yes Dean, I told you that like…" Sam glanced down at his watch, "twenty minutes ago." Sam sighed, his laptop opened in front of him. The fresh cup of coffee steaming from its place on the edge of the table, Sam reaches for it.

"Dude, didn't you just have a cup of coffee like, thirty minutes ago?" Dean asked finally putting down the TV schedule.

"Well yeah, when you have a job like ours you kind of have to keep the coffee pot on wherever we go." Sam laughed it off as he clicked on a link talking about the possessions that have been going on lately. Dean slowly walked over to his side and gave him one of the famous "I-don't-believe-what-you-are-saying" looks Dean is so good at giving. Sam noticed right away. "Dean, come on man, I'm fine, I am just a little tired."

"A little tired Sammy, well, I mean with you a little tired could mean something as harmless as a cold or it could mean you are dying." Dean tried to laugh it off, but even he knew in the joke there was truth. "Maybe you should just lay down for a bit, I mean the case will still be here in a few hours. I mean, you have barely had any you time, and usually I am the poster boy for staying up and getting things done. But you need to take care of yourself." Dean finished his little rant and stared at Sam who looked like he was on the verge of agreeing.

"I will sleep Dean…" Sam began, but then turned back to his computer. "But once this case is done." Sam concluded, clicking on another link.

"You know what…" Dean angrily grunted as he stalked over and slammed the screen down on the computer. "I am tired of the attitude. You are no use to me all burnt out." Sam's face was twisted with a mix between confusion and anger. But it soon melted away into a yawn. He rose from his chair, pushed it under the small round table and walked over to his bed. He flopped down and put his hands underneath his pillows and his head.

"You're right." Sam finally breathed out. Dean almost jumped when he whispered those words.

"Sam, you're sure you're ok?" Dean asked. But Sam was already in a deep sleep, not in the condition to answer to anyone. Dean shrugged it off and walked over to the light shutting it off quietly. _First time in a long time he has agreed with me without putting up a fight. _Dean thought to himself quickly. He climbed under his own covers and stared for a minute at the lump in the other bed. He closed his eyes and let himself drift into oblivion.

The next morning Dean rose when the sunlight began to come through the blinds. He slowly realized that the giant lump in the other bed has disappeared. He shot up out of his bed.

"Sammy?" He called loudly, noticing the light illuminating from under the bathroom door. He approached it quickly knocking.

"One minute" he heard the familiar husky voice call back to him. Dean sighed a loud sigh of relief. Sam proceeded to open the door and turn on the faucet. Dean just stood there looking confused. "Do you have to go to the bathroom" Sam began moving out of the tiny closet like room.

"Um no, I just like to irritate you." Dean chuckled as he moved over to his bed. "So what time did you get up?" He carefully watched Sam's response, looking for a twitch to signal him lying.

"Uh, about four I think." Sam lied, because he had never really fallen asleep. He was just lying there, pondering why his body was so tired, and yet his eyes wouldn't fall down. Just closing them for moments of piece, Dean sighed loudly and this made Sam drop on the bed across from him, their knees almost touching. "What?" Sam practically asked with the sarcastic under bite.

"Nothing Sam, I am just wondering, if maybe you could tell me the combined hours you have slept in lets say, the last week or so. Oh, and this time, don't lie." Dean finished, his voice rising with every word. Sam was taken aback. He sat for a moment while Dean rose from where he was sitting. "I just," Dean began, but soon stopped himself.

"You can't what Dean?" Sam asked practically yelling. He began to stand up, but before he knew it, he felt a light feeling in his head and the black dots invaded his vision. _No. _Sam whispered to himself as his face came closer and closer to the floor. He hit his shoulder on the bed, turning him at the right angle so his face wasn't the first thing to hit the floor, the back of his shoulder was. Sam heard Dean's footsteps reach his side in record time.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, as he began shaking the limp man. "Sammy?" Dean called again, louder this time. Sam knew he was yelling, he could hear it, but his entire body felt too weak, too tired to respond. He let out a grunt in response. Dean let out a loud sigh as he flopped back against the bed. "This is the kind of thing that happens when you don't get enough sleep." Dean scolded, pushing Sam's shoulder lightly. But upon Sam not really responding, Dean's brother instincts kicked in. He rose to his feet and went around so he could see Sam's face clearly. "Sam?" Dean asked when he saw Sam's eyes were closed tight. Sam grunted again, but this time it sounded like he was in pain. "Man come on, get up." Dean chuckled half heartedly.

"I can't" managed Sam. To much of Dean's horror a tear fell from Sam's eye.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"My body," Sam began, but he had to take a minute to breathe, "It is just to tired to function." Sam finished letting out a loud drawn out sigh against the gross motel carpeting.

"Well, the only thing we can do is get you up right?" Dean asked as he anchored his arms under Sam's. "I just have to get you on the bed, then you can rest, we can take a few days and just kind of chill for now." Dean concluded, lifting the heavy limp man off of the floor.

"But Dean, we have a case that can't wait." Sam interjected in a small child like way. Dean just shook his head as he began moving the body up the bed.

"You can't right now. Your body is just too worn out right now, Tagger will understand. I mean dad was like a brother to him, making us his nephews, if one of us is sick, as family, he will HAVE to understand." Dean sighed to himself as he knew that didn't even really make sense to him. If you were sick during a hunt, you bore through it and waited to treat it until the job was done, or until you were dead.

"Dean…" Sam began but Dean held up his hand,

"I don't want an argument Sam, you're sick, and I am going to take care of you first, you come first, some haunting will be there when you get better ok?" Dean wasn't exactly yelling, he was being stern to get his point across to Sam. The only way he knew how, to play the rough brother role. Sam just lay back on his pillows slowly but surely settling himself in. Dean walked over to the blinds and pulled them extra closed; he grabbed his car keys off of the small round table by Sam's computer and glanced back at the large figure tucked in under the blankets. "I'm going to pick some things up at the store around the corner." Dean yelled to him. But Sam was too warm, too into the moment of being tired to listen to him.

Dean fired up the impala and sat for a minute, thinking about everything he and Sam had been through. _Why does he feel the need to lie to me? _Dean asked himself, slamming his hands hard on the steering wheel. He rubbed his calloused hands down his chiseled face. _I have to get him some things from the drug store, and maybe find a way to a bar on the way home. _Dean smiled to himself at the thought of the true blue southern girl moving around him. He backed out of his space and he began down the long dirt road that led back to the highway.

"Blythewood man." Dean scowled to himself as he began the long winding tree way to civilization. The trip took a total of thirty minutes to reach the nearest pharmacy. He walked straight for the twenty four hour medicine service counter, and rung the bright yellow bell. "Anyone here" He called.

"Hold on for a minute" a womanly southern drawl came from the back room. Dean looked in the little reflective mirror on the counter top and fixed his hair, making sure the spike was perfect. A woman with bright blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun with the brightest blue eyes made her appearance from around the corner. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a light pink top. "Now, may I help you?" She asked, her voice a little irritated. Dean was taken aback and he gave her a shocked look. "Well are you going to stand there all day with that stupid look on your face or are you going to tell me what you want?" She asked. Dean just shook himself out of the fantasy world he drew this girl into.

"Yeah" he cleared his throat, "my brother, he uh, he is sick. Sleeping a lot, and today well he passed out." Dean concluded the girl had her clipboard out. But when he mentioned him passing out she practically rolled her eyes up to him.

"He passed out? Now, do you mean, he fainted and was awake for the entire thing, or he woke up and didn't remember anything?" She asked the clipboard now at her side. She was clicking her pen continuously.

"Um, I would have to say that he fell, but he was awake, he remembered it." Dean shuffled his feet uncomfortably. The woman sighed loudly and turned around to look at the shelf.

"Well, with this brother of yours loosing consciousness, I would have to say that you might want him to get checked out by a proper physician, but until then, we are going to give him some Tylenol, and keep him hydrated. Has he been throwing up?" She asked Dean. He just shook his head.

"I actually have no idea." Dean admitted blowing air out of his mouth. He noticed the girl was loosening up a little, she seemed concerned.

"You need to get back to where you are staying and make sure he didn't hit his head or anything. The first signs of a concussion, I am recommending you take him to the closest ER in Columbia, about twenty minutes away." The girl sighed; she turned around and grabbed a box of Tylenol and a bottle of Pediasure and handed them both to Dean. He took them gratefully and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I wouldn't think of it honey." She smiled at him lightly. "You need to get back and take care of your brother." She leaned over the counter and clicked her pen again, writing her number on the box of pills. "Call me if you have any questions." Dean smiled and nodded his head.

"Thanks and by the way…" Dean leaned over and read her nametag, "Loren, it was really nice meeting you." He turned on his heels and clicked his tongue, knowing that he still had it.

Sam was lying in the bed he felt his stomach twisting in knots again, and knowing he was alone, he could finally run to the bathroom without the fear of Dean hearing him. He threw the covers off of the bed and his feet hit the floor. A painful white hot burning shot through his calf muscles as soon as his feet hit the floor. Like his arms when he threw off the blanket, he now felt like he had just run a marathon and his muscles were going through fatigue. He was breathing heavy trying to keep the nausea to a minimum. But knowing it was coming up anyway he grabbed the trash can and dangled his head over it. _If I can't make it to the bathroom, I will just have to stay here and get it cleaned up before Dean gets back. _Sam thought to himself. Just then the entire contents of his stomach (which wasn't much) got expelled from his body and mostly into the trash can. _Don't worry, you will be ok. _His body was racked with shivers and he could no longer really feel his legs. _How will I get this trash out? _He thought to himself, but, he knew there was no chance in hell of that happening. He could barely pull himself back to a sitting position, and he still had to slide back under the covers, thinking about it made him tired. Sam glanced at the clock and it read eleven thirty. _Well Dean should be home anytime now, I mean it is barely the middle of the day, which is too early for even my big brother to go bar hopping and picking up chicks. _Sam thought to himself to almost distract himself from the task at hand. Like he pulled up on que, Sam heard the roar of the engine and the squeaky driver side door as his big brother exited it. He heard the key clanging in the door, and he heard a light gasp as Dean had seen his brother huddled over a trash can.

"Dean" Sam croaked.

"Sammy?" Dean practically yelled, he dropped whatever was in his hands on the floor. He rushed to his brother's side and saw the puke all over the front of his shirt and the floor, barely any in the trash can. "Okay Sam." Dean soothed his brother who was still shaking. "Let's get you to the bathroom." Dean quietly told Sam, he put his hands under Sam's armpits and practically lifted him off of the bed. Sam had to use everything in him to make it the three steps to the bathroom door. "I am going to get you a shirt, just sit on the toilet." Dean ordered Sam who limped over and sat down. Sam was beginning to feel himself falling asleep sitting there. The sound of the zipper on the bag and the rustling of fresh clothes made Sam soothed. The fact that his brother was here to take care of him made Sam very happy. He let out a small smile just as Dean came through the door. "Do you need help changing...?" Dean faded out, "or do you have this?" He finally croaked out through the obvious embarrassment.

"I can do it" Sam slowly said. He began to pull of his shirt slowly. Dean exited the bathroom and pulled the door closed. He walked over to the phone and called the front desk.

"Can I get some bleach based cleaner for the carpet in here?" Dean asked the man, the man agreed and he shouted at a cleaning lady to get to the room immediately. Sam opened the door slowly and was leaning against the door frame. Dean was just now noticing how thin Sam had gotten, like his entire muscle mass had just dropped off and he had no fat to his name. "Sam, how much have you been eating?" Dean asked him.

"Please don't mention food right now." Sam slowly slurred out. "I am just really tired, and I need to sleep." He began to make his way back to the bed.

"No" Dean said as he walked over to intercept Sam. "You are going to be sleeping in my bed until I can get this all cleaned up, I can't have you smelling that and barfing again." Dean guided the tired man over to the other bed and tucked him in tightly; just enough so Sam could turn over on his side facing the second trash can from the bathroom. There was a light knock on the door just as Dean finished taking care of Sam, it was the maid with the cleaner, he opened the door. She handed him the bottle and hurried away.

Dean spent the next hour cleaning all the throw up off of the floor and off of the side of the trash can. _Anything to help you Sam, anything. _Dean thought to himself as he looked over at the big lump under the covers.


	2. I will get to you

The morning slowly crept up on Dean. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed watching Sam toss and turn all night. The whimpers that broke through Sam's mouth made Dean flinch and every time one came out Dean was by Sam's side shaking him. Sam would wake up for a minute then drift back into sleeping. The rooster from god only knows where signaling the change cawed. Dean rubbed his hands over his face and let out a long drawn out sigh. Loud enough to stir Sam.

"Mm, Dean, what time is it?" Sam asked. Dean just glanced at the wall clock.

"About six." Dean commented back getting up from the bed. "Should I make some coffee…?" Dean began, but the small change in Sam's face gave him his answer. Sam turned over and began to lift his body off of the bed. "Whoa there, where do you think your going?" Dean called across to Sam. His face was stern and tense.

"I was going to go to the bathroom Dean." Sam sarcastically smirked. He let out a groan as his body protested to the movement.

"Well, do you need any help?" Dean asked slowly, drawing out the words.

"No" Sam began putting his hands to his knees, "I think I can manage."

"Ok, good." Dean quickly commented turning his back to Sam and making a relieved face. Dean flinched every time a noise of pain escaped from Sam's mouth. When the bathroom door closed, Dean walked over to where Sam was sleeping and noticed the sheets soaked in a sweat. He felt them a little more and realized that Sam had to be fighting a raging fever. He stalked over to the bathroom door and knocked harshly. "Sam?" He called out.

"Yeah?" Sam called back, obviously weak.

"Are you almost done in there?" Dean prodded, just as the toilet flushed.

"Yeah." Sam yelled as he unlocked and opened the door. Dean's hand immediately shot for Sam's head. Upon feeling the heat radiating off of him Dean scowled.

"When were you going to tell me your fever was high?" Dean asked, obviously a little annoyed and angry.

"When it became relevant and I was dying." Sam shot back. He let out a slight cough as he pushed past Dean.

"What was that?" Dean asked. Sam turned on his heels to look quizzically at Dean.

"A cough, it usually comes with a cold." Sam retorted. Dean stalked over to the door and grabbed his coat and his keys. "Where are you going?" Sam called out.

"Out." Dean yelled as he slammed the door behind him. He walked quickly to his Impala and got in. Slamming his hands against the steering wheel, he started the car and he pulled out quickly. He drove down the road for a few minutes when he passed the store he bought the meds from, he kept driving, he knew he needed to find a nice bar with a nice selection of beer and a hot waitress to hit on. He found one about four miles down the road, the sign read "Smiley's Bar", half of it was burnt out, but in the sun he could see it. The big flashing neon open sign was hanging in the window. Dean parked the impala, and upon realizing that a group of white guys with cards in their hands were going inside, he chuckled. _I'm making some money tonight. _He thought to himself slyly. He climbed out of the impala and the squeaky door slammed behind him. _I wonder what Sam is doing? _Dean thought quickly. "Screw him" He practically yelled. He opened the door to the saloon like bar and was instantly greeted with the smell of peanuts and beer on tap. Dean heard the distinct southern accents as he walked up to the long front counter. The woman at the front had long blonde curly hair, her blue eyes lit up the entire run down bar. She was wearing a bright red shade of lipstick and her porcelain skin was the most flawless Dean had ever seen.

"Hey darling" Dean heard a man with a thick southern drawl shout to the woman. He glanced over and noticed the man chuckling with three of his other buddies. "I'm talking to you." The man shouted at the woman again. She only turned now to see if he needed anything.

"Yes Trevor?" The woman asked, obviously exasperated with the man. She had her hand resting on the long wooden counter. Her charm bracelet shining in the light, her name tag reading "Darla". _Hmm, she knows him. _Dean thought to himself in the same second the man, now known as Travis, grabbed her wrist hard enough to make her let out a little gasp.

"Is that any way to answer a paying customer?" The man pulled her closer into himself. Everyone in the bar just sat, quite, watching. Dean began to turn on his heels to give the guy a piece of his mind. A hand grabbed his; he turned in time to see a brunette girl, another bartender, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't do that sweetheart." She whispered and chuckled to herself lightly. Dean glanced back over at Darla and Trevor.

"You're just gonna let this happen?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Trust me honey, no one messes with Darla and this man is going to learn it very soon." She chuckled again as she released his hand. She walked around to the other side of the bar and threw a towel over her shoulder. "So, what can I get you?" She asked Dean. He sighed and glanced back over at Darla who was now in the man's face. He didn't seem to pleased with what she was saying to him. He released her arm, snorted as he threw down a ten dollar bill and he scattered out of the bar quickly. A drink was placed in front of Dean's clasped hands,

"I figured you would want a PBR." The brunette said. She walked away past Darla who was now looking in Dean's direction. He dropped his eyes to look at the freshly poured beer. He held the glass in his hands and took a big swig.

"Thank you." A soft feminine voice said close to Dean's ear. He almost spit out his mouth full of brew. He looked up to come face to face with Darla.

"For what?" Dean asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"For trying to stand up for me, I saw you moving in. But, I'm a big girl. I learned to handle myself." Darla said her smile lighting up Dean's bad mood.

"Well you're welcome, and I noticed you were handling yourself very well." Dean laughed as he took another sip of his beer.

"Yeah had to learn sometime" she sighed to herself as she wiped the extra beer off of the counter in front of Dean. "Well, if you were wondering, I get off at four." She finished the sentence with a wink and walked towards a group of gentleman who had just come through the door. Dean smiled lightly and chuckled. He took another sip of his beer and checked his watch. It was only ten in the morning, and he was sitting at the bar.

Sam leaned over the toilet for the third time since Dean had stormed out. He was sure nothing was coming up except acid and he was ready to be done with the cold. He wiped his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand and flushed the obviously dirty handle. Pulling himself off of the floor, he trudged back to his bed and flopped down. He knew he was going to be back in the bathroom soon or at least bent over his trashcan which was placed strategically by the head of the bed. He looked at the ceiling; the sound of the air conditioning unit humming lightly drifted him into a deep sleep.

_Wet. _Sam thought to himself as he turned over on his bed to get in a more comfortable position. _Cold. _Was the next word that came to mind. He slit one eye open carefully and felt around with his hands. He realized he was laying in a puddle of water.

"Dean, why did you dump water on me?" Sam yelled loudly, but upon getting no response, Sam flipped over. He noticed he was alone in the room. He looked around and realized that his clothes were soaked all the way through. He began to panic; he had never felt this bad before. His head was pounding; his throat was killing him, and he knew he had spiked a dangerously high fever. "Dean." Sam called one more time, giving the room one more look over before reaching for his phone which was perched on the end table next to the bed. He pushed speed dial number one, and Dean's name appeared on the screen. It began to ring, but it was too loud for Sam's ears which were sensitive at the moment.

"Hello?" The gruff voice broke the quite ring.

"Dean?" Sam breathed out. He began coughing quite loudly.

"Sammy?" Dean sounded worried. _Apparently he isn't worried enough because he isn't here. _Thought Sam between breaths.

"Dean, something is really wrong." Sam finally managed to breathe out in between gags. He knew something was coming up so in haste he threw the phone onto the shaggy motel blanket and rushed to the bathroom.

_"Sammy?" _ Dean's voice broke the silence in the room. He was yelling quite loudly, Sam could hear him over his dry heaving. _"Sam, man talk to me what's going on?" _ He heard the panic in Dean's voice rising, but he couldn't do anything to answer it. _"Sit right there, I'm coming." _ Dean finally managed. Sam heard the click of the phone and proceeded to dry heave.

Dean had never pushed the impala as hard as he pushed it to get to Sam. _How could I be so stupid? _Dean yelled at himself. _How could I leave him alone like that? He was so sick. _Dean pushed the pedal to the ground, he had to get there, had to help his little brother, he just hoped he wasn't too late to do so.


	3. Once a Brother

Sam laid curled up on the bathroom floor for what felt like days. His whole body was beginning to slowly shut down, everything was unbearable to move. He let out little gasps of pain when he drew in a deep breath. _I'm going to die. _Sam thought to himself. _I'm going to die, and never see Dean again. _The tears began to well up in his eyes. He let his hand fall from where it was resting on the toilet bowl. Sam felt the familiar pressure welling up in his throat, he knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't move. He vomited on the floor; it spewed from his mouth across the dirty tile. He felt the wetness on his shirt, and knew it had gotten all over him. _I can't do anything. _He thought to himself finally letting the tears fall to the floor.

Dean's face was twisted in anger, he knew the hotel wasn't this far from the bar, at least he thought that as he pensively stared out the window looking for the familiar red light of the sign. When he thought he saw something his heart skipped a beat, and he realized the hotel was just up ahead in the clearing of the woods. Dean knew he was going as fast as the impala could push, but he needed to go faster, to get to Sammy. He whipped the car into the first parking space he could find, and without even turning off the engine, Dean blasted open his door and hit the ground running for the hotel room. When he reached it, he couldn't get the key out of his pocket fast enough. "Damn it" Dean yelled as he finally fished it out of the tighter jeans. He slid the key card in and it felt like an eternity for it to turn green, the beep rang out loudly and Dean pushed open the door with his shoulder. "Sammy?" Dean called out into the darkness. The moan of pain erupted from the bathroom and Dean rushed over quickly. He saw Sam lying on the floor and he dropped to his knees. Without even touching Sam, he felt the heat radiating off of Sam's limp body. "Oh Sam" Dean noticed the puke all over the front of him. He moved Sam's shoulders to see if he could get any kind of life from the obviously very sick grown man. Sam let out a small groan to the change in position. He was feeling sick again, but didn't want to puke in the same spot. Dean rolled Sam onto his back and gave him a once over. "Sammy, please, just be ok." Dean whispered. The tears welling up in his eyes as he sniffled quietly. "I can't loose my little pain in the ass brother." Dean followed up, sniffing hard and letting out a growl, like he was clearing his throat. Sam lay there, unable to move anything, unable to get across to Dean that him just touching his skin was putting him in pure agony. Dean, unaware of the pain that Sam was in, hoisted him up, throwing his arm around his shoulder, he practically drug him the short way to the bed. Dean flopped Sam down accidently, and Sam let out a pained hiss.

"Im sorry Sammy." Dean sighed slowly. He reached for Sam's shirt, but Sam let out a groan.

"Don't touch me." Sam breathed out harshly. His sweaty body was soaking the sheets the minute they hit the bed. Dean stepped back and put his hand over his mouth.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked shakily. He had never seen his little brother like this, and was at a loss for words. Sam slowly and painfully pulled himself almost to an upright position. He slid himself back so his head was on his pillow. His body was shaking violently.

"Just let me lay here" Sam finally answered. Dean stood for another second before he moved in closer to Sam. He pulled the blankets up over his obviously very sick little brother.

"Ok Sam, just go to sleep. I am going to clean up the bathroom." Dean whispered. He noticed Sam was already drifting off. Dean walked over so he could see Sam's face, it was white and pale. There was an obvious dark red tint to his cheeks and Dean didn't like how it looked. He stalked over to the bag the was still on the floor, the contents pretty much strewn all over. He opened the thermometer quietly and pushed the button. The beep sounded deafening loud and it made Dean jump. He looked at Sam who didn't move an inch and let out a deep breath of air. He walked over to the large lump and crouched down so he was face level with his not so little brother. "Sam" Dean whispered. "Man I know you just fell asleep, but I gotta take your temperature." Dean shook Sam's shoulder and Sam's big eyes opened sleepily.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, come on; put this thermometer in your mouth." Dean offered it up, but realizing Sam was just too weak he put it in Sam's mouth. The longest sixty seconds of Dean's life ended with the loud beeping. When he drew it out of Sam's obviously dry mouth, he stared at the numbers in disbelief. "Sam, I think it is time to go to the hospital" Dean stated in a hurry. He threw the covers off of the now dozing out Sam.

"No Dean." Sam tiredly protested.

"Sam, your fever is 103.5 dude, its time to go." Dean practically yelled. He immediately felt bad about it, but knew it was what needed to be done. He reached down to help Sam get up but stopped when he realized that he was sweating through his clothes again. "Come on moose, lets get you changed, then we are going to go." Dean stated moving towards Sam again.

"Dean just let me sleep" Sam almost sounded awake and irritated at this point. "I am feeling a little better after I puked. I think I ate something." Sam tried to rationalize.

"No I am not taking the risk." Dean quickly retorted. He began the hunt for Sam's shoes.

"If I still feel this way tomorrow afternoon we can go." Sam tried to explain. Dean just shook his head.

"Sammy lets just go, if they say you are fine then we can come back here and sleep as much as you want." Dean was still looking for the missing shoes.

"Dean I'm fine." Sam commented before slowly turning over. "If my head didn't hurt so bad, I could deal with this." Sam sighed loudly before hoisting himself upwards. He let out a groan of pain. This made Dean forget what he was doing entirely and darted to Sam's side.

"You don't have to get up right now I am still looking for your shoes." Dean put his hand on his brother shoulder.

"I am going to go the bathroom, and you are going to take a minute to think about how irrational you are being." Sam commented. He coughed deeply.

"Let's just go Sam, please." Dean practically begged. Sam gave him a tired, feverish look.

"Dean lets just go tomorrow, I am sure this will be all over and you will have freaked out for nothing." Sam's raspy voice broke through. Sam reached over and flipped on the beside table light. Dean finally saw the scary looking figure that was his brother, once a picture of health, now sickly white and red.

"Ok Sam." Dean finally breathed. "But the first sign that this is getting worse than it is, and I am taking you in, no pleading." Dean rationalized. Sam just nodded his head slowly, letting out another deep sigh.

"Can you help me to the bathroom?" Sam asked weakly. Dean just shook his head and reached down to hoist Sam up.

"Sammy are you ok in there?" Dean called through the now shut bathroom door. He heard the water in the sink running.

"Yeah, I just have to get my shirt on." Sam responded slowly. He could hear Dean practically leaning on the bathroom door. _Ah, my stomach. _Sam thought to himself as it started knotting tightly. _Maybe I just need to lay down. _Sam thought to himself and with his now clean, dry clothes on, he opened the door. Dean was standing there with a beer can in his hand, it looked cold. Dean just walked next to Sam as he shuffled his way back to the bed. Sam dropped slowly onto his pillow and Dean once again placed the covers up to Sam's chin. He leaned over and turned off the light.

"Goodnight bitch." Dean whispered slowly and with that he backed up to his own bed and sat down staring at his brother. _It is gonna be a long night. _He slowly thought, dragging his hand across his chin stubble.


	4. Calm before the storm

Dean felt himself starting to drift off to sleep. He had his arms supporting his head, which was now swaying back and forth. He kept jumping up, making coffee, anything to stay awake. He needed to look out for Sam, make sure he doesn't get any worse. Dean glanced at the clock, it read 4:05 and he blinked rapidly. _Well, if Sam was gonna get worse, he would of already. I need to get some sleep. _With that Dean kicked off his shoes and lay down on top of the covers. Within moments he was sound asleep.

"AHHHH" He heard the yelling first, he couldn't seem to shoot open his eyes fast enough. He threw his body in the upright position and he shot his glance at Sam who was moving around from side to side, rocking quickly. He was yelling, loudly, obviously in pain. Dean darted to his side and laid his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean yelled loudly. He was trying anything to do anything he could to comfort Sam, to get him to quite enough so he could tell him what's wrong. But nothing was working; Dean crouched down, eye level to Sam, whose eyes were shut so tight it appeared as if he were trying to fight a bad dream. The tears were falling from them regardless and it hit Dean right in the heart. Sam let out another massive yell like scream. "Ok now we are going to the hospital" Dean half angrily said. He shot up and grabbed his keys off of the little end table. He opened the motel door and he quickly started the roaring engine. He stalked back in and flipped the covers off of the obvious sweating grown man who was still writhing in pain.

"Dean" Sam breathed through the pain. "Dean help me" Sam whispered out as Dean grabbed under his arms to hoist him up.

"I am Sam." Dean chocked the words out. It was like Sam was barely standing on his own at all, he was pretty much dead weight as he began to pass out. "Hey Sam?" Dean patted his very hot face when he realized. "Come on buddy, we have to stay awake, we will be at the hospital in just a few minutes." Dean kept patting Sam's face but to no prevail. "Come on Sammy" Dean tried again. But nothing. Sam finally collapsed in a heap on the floor, much to Dean's dismay. He crouched down next to the heavy breathing individual. He pushed Sam's shoulder slightly, trying to get him to stir, but nothing. "Damn it." Dean huffed. He searched his pockets for his phone, but upon feeling nothing he darted for the door, he threw himself at the running impala and began rifling through it. Upon feeling the small black object on the floor he grabbed it up quickly. Silence fell throughout the motel parking lot. "Sam?!" Dean yelled loudly and he ran back in to the heap who was now breathing raggedly.

"Dean?" Sam asked groggily. "What's going on?" He was trying to get himself into an upright position. But weakly lowered himself back down. Dean dropped to his knees next to the now conscious man. He felt his forehead.

"Hm" Dean curiously sighed. "Your fever seems to be breaking." Dean commented just as confused as he looked.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. Let's just get you back in the bed." Dean muttered lightly. His phone still tight in his grip. He helped Sam back under the covers and walked around the room for a second.

The impala was sitting in the parking lot still running and Dean approached it looking almost angry. He sat in the drivers seat and turned the key in the ignition shutting off the loudly blubbering engine. He ran his hands over his face slowly and glanced down at the phone. He flipped it open and scrolled down to the name _Bobby. _He hit call and it rang twice before the gruff voice answered.

"Hello?" The groggy tired old man asked.

"I need some help Bobby." Dean admitted sighing loudly.

"Do you know what time it is?" Bobby asked angrily. But upon hearing Dean's voice he quickly softened. "What's wrong?"

"Sam and I…" Dean faded out. But quickly caught himself. "We were hunting a vamp in South Carolina. Bobby, I think Sam is really sick." Dean finished.

"How sick is he?" Bobby's voice mimicked the same worry Dean was wearing not but three minutes ago.

"He was running a high temperature, he was puking, he has headaches." Dean admitted.

"Well, what hospital is Sam in? I will be there as soon as I can." Bobby sounded like he was looking through something.

"Well Bobby, he isn't in a hospital." Dean drug the last part out and he waited for the blow up.

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked now all attention on the phone.

"Well, when Sam was getting worse he asked me not to take him to a hospital." Dean sighed, now realizing how stupid it sounded.

"And you listened to him?!" Bobby yelled loudly.

"I had to Bobby, you didn't see the kids face." Dean pleaded loudly. "But that isn't what is getting to me." Dean finally said after a few seconds of silence on the phone. "His fever is just gone."

"What are you talking about, his fever just vanished?" Bobby asked. He was quite for another second.

"Yeah Sam had this weird attack, and now, his fever feels like it has broken." Dean rubbed his hand through his hair.

"Well, I will still be there, give me four hours." With that he hung up. Dean sighed loudly as he closed the phone. He closed the door and he slowly trudged back inside. Sam was lying there, completely quite, his breathing back to normal. Dean walked over and laid the back of his hand on Sam's forehead for a second time. It felt cool to the touch. He flopped down on his bed and laid back, still glancing at Sam every couple of minutes. His eyes slowly fluttered closed. _He's ok. _Dean thought to himself, _he's ok. _


End file.
